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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25537942">Max</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cteklite/pseuds/Cteklite'>Cteklite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:20:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,698</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25537942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cteklite/pseuds/Cteklite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A man keeps his promise to his family.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Max</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wesley spins in his chair. There’s a stack of papers on his desk he should probably look at, but right now, he’s having too much fun feeling his hair whirl around. He slaps his hands on the desk and stares at the pile of papers. His eyes almost glaze over, thinking about doing paperwork. But if he doesn’t do it now, something might come up later to bite him in the ass.</p><p><br/>
He snatches up one paper. Junk mail, of course. Trash. The next paper. A letter reminding him that he had to make a business presentation for his father. He dreaded the thought of anything going wrong, but that’s a problem for later. Third paper. More junk-Something catches Wesley’s eye. It’s a child’s drawing- obviously manufactured, meant to tug at the heartstrings of people who can’t see past the lie. It’s an ad about orphaned children- the ones separated from their homes, whether by choice or not. The address and phone number of an orphanage are listed. Thoughts drift across his mind. Memories resurface.</p>
<hr/><p>Wesley is up late again. He roams the halls of the large house his family resides in, still believing ghosts haunt it. He had no ulterior motive for seeking one- only to find them. He passes by his parents’ room, and stops to listen when he hears them speaking.</p><p><br/>
“I can’t take another night of it. She won’t quiet down.”</p><p><br/>
“Then why did you insist on having another child?”</p><p><br/>
“I thought this one would be quiet as well. I need a child, in case something happens to me.”</p><p>“... You care more about that company than your own family?”</p><p><br/>
“It’s not that. It’s just that-” his father is interrupted by the sound of wailing cries. They’re not terribly loud, but they can be heard clearly. “Damn her!”</p><p><br/>
“Honey, please-”</p><p><br/>
“No, I’ve had enough! I swear, I’ll…” Wesley moves away from the door and his father’s tirade devolves into frustrated grumbling. He makes for the source of the cries, and opens the door to a recently-renovated room.</p><p><br/>
He steps over the various brightly-colored toys and blocks, and stops in front of a crib. He reaches in and cradles its silver-haired inhabitant, gently rocking her back and forth. “Shh…” He sits and crosses his legs, and the baby quiets down. “I swear, even if they won’t love you…” A tear rolls down his face. “I will. Forever and always. No matter what.”</p>
<hr/><p>Wesley snaps out of it and stands up with such force that his chair falls over. He looks around, breathing quickly and reminding himself of where he is. “Air,” he thinks aloud. “I need a walk. Papers later.” He stuffs the orphanage ad into his pocket and grabs his suit jacket, walking downstairs and towards the front entrance. Two of his coworkers are sitting near the door.</p><p><br/>
“You good, Wes?” One of them looks up from his phone.</p><p><br/>
“Yeah. Just going out for a walk. Go ahead and lock up, I’ve got a spare key. You two can go home.” He opens the door and steps out. “I’ll be back later, got some stuff to do.” Wesley is off before they can respond.</p><p><br/>
For a while, Wesley walks in a daze, not quite paying attention to where he’s going. His face and stature are a repellent for the various thugs around the city, so he walked without fear. The sky rumbles, and Wesley holds out his hand. Feeling water drip on it, he begins walking faster, and eventually finds shelter from the oncoming rain. Leaning against the wall under an awning, he finds himself next to a short, chubby man wearing a flat cap, trying to smoke a cigarette.</p><p><br/>
Wesley watches the man flick his lighter for a few seconds before pulling out his own, igniting it, and holding it out towards the man. He lights it and nods at Wesley. “Thanks.”</p><p><br/>
“No problem.” Wesley moves his hand and reveals a “Smoking Area” sign. He looks around, and doesn’t see many other people. “This place get a lot of traffic?”</p><p><br/>
“Nah, not really.” The man blows a cloud of smoke. “People in this city… Too busy worrying about themselves. They got no reason to stop by here.” Wesley, intrigued, looks at the man’s face again, and pulls the ad out of his pocket.</p><p><br/>
Opening the letter some more, a picture of a man next to a wall of writing is printed in black and white. Holding it up to the man’s face, Wesley can see they’re the same person. “This is an orphanage?” He takes a step back. He can see a building beyond the wall, three stories tall.</p><p><br/>
“Mhmm. Someone’s gotta take care of all the kids who get put on their own around here.” The man continues smoking. “Just… Only guy who does care happens to be me.”</p><p><br/>
Wesley steps around the man and stands in front of a locked fence gate. Despite the soon-to-happen rain, there are still children running about in the yard. He notices a small group to his left, and shifts his attention to them. They seem to be looking down and shouting, or laughing. “Hey, bud.” He tries to get the man’s attention. “I think you’ve got a bullying situation going on over there.”</p><p><br/>
“D’oh, what? Again?” The man extinguishes his cigarette in an ashtray and leaves it in there. “Excuse me.” He shoulders past Wesley and unlocks the gate, and rushes to the group of children without closing it. Wesley looks around again, then sticks his foot out to stop the gate from closing, and lets himself in.</p><p><br/>
Standing inside the walls, Wesley gets a better look at the orphanage. The grounds are well-cared for, as is the building itself. The children don’t seem to be sickly or hungry, which is a good sign. The group he saw, however, is being scolded by the chubby man. Behind him is a girl, curled into a ball, her head buried in her legs. Wesley glances at the man, then walks over to the girl.</p><p><br/>
Standing over her, Wesley feels like he’s looking down on an ant. The girl is wearing a hoodie, which is covering her head. She appears to be crying, judging by her body shaking and the noises. She notices Wesley’s shadow, and looks up at him. The hood falls back, and Wesley’s eyes widen. The girl’s hair is the same shade of white as his.</p><p><br/>
“H-hey.” He crouches down to her level. “Were those kids bothering you?”</p><p><br/>
“They called me an old lady. They won’t leave me alone.” Her lip trembles. Her green eyes are puffy and red. “Every day… They say only blonde girls are pretty, and I’ll never get married.”</p><p><br/>
“Well…” Wesley pauses, thinking of something to say. “Do I look like an old man to you?” He points at his own hair. The girl squints and blinks a few times, clearing her watery eyes.</p><p><br/>
“... How old are you?”</p><p><br/>
“I’m not an old man, that’s for sure.” He tries to give her a reassuring smile. “You’re younger than me, though, so you’re not an old lady.”</p><p><br/>
“Oh… Yeah!” Her face seems to brighten a bit. “Thanks. You’re nice.”</p><p><br/>
“Yeah, well…” Wesley scratches his head. “You shouldn’t listen to those kids. Everyone’s mean, especially when they’re young. If you let them get to you, you’ll be mean your whole life.”</p><p><br/>
“I promise I won’t!”</p><p><br/>
“Heh. Good. And about the white hair…” Wesley reaches out, and ruffles the girl’s hair a bit. “They only say those things because they don’t know what’s in store for you. That white hair…” Wesley pauses again. He’s not good at this stuff. “It’s a canvas. When you were born, it was left white so you could make it whatever color you want. You have more choices ahead of you than you know. Don’t let anyone tell you what you can’t do- tell yourself what you can do.”</p><p><br/>
The girl seemed just as stunned as Wesley was. Saying that felt strange and embarrassing. Thankfully, he didn’t have to dwell on it for long, as the orphanage’s owner grabbed his shoulder, making him quickly stand up in surprise.</p><p><br/>
“Run along, Max.” He says to the girl. “There’s a storm coming.” She nods, stands up, and runs off. The owner turns his attention to Wesley. “What did you say to her?”</p><p><br/>
“I just made her feel better. You gotta be careful with kids, man, these are their most formative years.”</p><p><br/>
“... That’s Max. Full name Maxine, but everyone started calling her Max.” He removes his hand from Wesley’s shoulder and watches the girl head inside. “She got dropped off about… Maybe ten years back. I wonder why. Her parents seem like they could’ve taken care of her. Are you thinking of adopting her?”</p><p><br/>
“... I can’t.” Wesley shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m actually capable of providing for a kid, y’know? Plus my living situation…”</p><p><br/>
“I understand. You seemed to talk with her pretty well.” The owner begins walking away. “Have a nice day.”</p><p><br/>
“You too.” Wesley watches the man step back inside with the children, then leaves the premises. He walks back to the office, and makes it back inside just as it starts to rain.</p>
<hr/><p>“Excuse me, I’d like to have this sent out.” Wesley places the parcel on the counter.</p><p><br/>
“Mhmm. Oh, you have the address written down already?” The lady picks it up and examines it. “This is that orphanage. May I look inside?”</p><p><br/>
“Of course.” Wesley nods. The lady opens the parcel, examines its contents, smiles, and reseals it.</p><p><br/>
“Alright. I just need you to sign and pay the fee, and we’ll have this right out.” After signing and paying, Wesley leaves. The parcel is placed among others in the back of a truck. Though dark and cramped, its contents remain undisturbed and fresh. On the label, it is addressed to Max. Inside, on top of the contents, is a handwritten letter, inked in a black pen.</p><p>Max</p><p>If it ever feels like the world is against you, please remember, I’m always in your corner. You may not see me, or even remember I exist soon, but I made a promise. I won’t break it.</p><p>Signed<br/>
A Friend</p>
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